The Greek's Pregnant Bride

‘I didn’t mean to imply that you were spoilt. I appreciate the Mondelli name has been a mixed blessing for you.’

‘And the Markos name?’ she said, glad to be able to turn the conversation onto him. ‘Has that been a mixed blessing for you?’

He raised a shoulder. ‘The Markos name is nothing special. It doesn’t stand for anything.’

‘Yes, it does. It stands for hard work, determination and guts.’

‘Guts?’

‘Rocco told me you got into Columbia on a scholarship. That alone tells me how hard you’ve had to work to get where you are.’

‘We all have our crosses to bear, whatever background we’re born into,’ he said quietly. He tapped on the dividing window. Amidst a hail of tooting horns, the car came to a stop. ‘We will walk from here.’

* * *

man played an accordion, the music only just audible above the raucous noise of the patrons, while pictures of celebrities lined the walls in haphazard fashion above empty bottles of wine with melted candles rammed

sixty wearing a white apron stretched around possibly the largest pot belly she’d ever seen ambled over to them, his arms outstretched. In a flurry of Greek, he pulled Christian into a tight embrace, slapping

doesn’t speak any English or Italian, agapi

she was wrenched from Christian’s hold and yanked into Mikolaj’s embrace, which finished with an affectionate ruffle of her hair, much as

comfortable anyone could be when crammed like a sardine was debatable. He plonked a laminated menu in front of her then ruffled her hair again for good measure before

waited for him to move them but realised there was literally nowhere else for them to go unless he twisted to

the heat brushing up her legs. ‘This

raised his eyebrows.

to

Although unfailingly polite, a barrier had been put up. Was it being here, in his home city, that had caused its construction?

apart from the food?’

tell me

is all

always this busy?’ It was a Monday evening, hardly the